


An Attempt at Flirting (Or several attempts)

by Middle_Earth_Mama



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bad Flirting, Dwarven Ones | Soulmates, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Oblivious Bilbo, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:41:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22856404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Middle_Earth_Mama/pseuds/Middle_Earth_Mama
Summary: Thorin Oakenshield had never been known for his grace. The hardy solid son of Durin was well known for being steady, firm and strong. He didn't know how to be soft. He wasn't very good with romance. But even a king can be caught offguard when his One is suddenly before him, and in need of more than just strength. Not to mention, if that certain somebody knows nothing about soul mates, or the fact that he is destined to be the dwarf king's One.Pretty canon compliant at first, but things will shake up a little as we go along. Updates will be random. Don't hate me. You know I've never dropped a fic!
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 154
Kudos: 561





	1. In which Thorin resists his fate

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovelies!  
> Just a little something I've been working on. Nothing heavy or upsetting. Nothing major or epic. Just a nice and sweet fic that will hopefully make you smile. Once again, my dear friends, enjoy!

Bilbo had to admit it, the dwarf king terrified him. It wasn't that he threatened Bilbo openly, but his strong and superior demeanor came off rather.... intimidating. 

It began that fated night, with a knock on the hobbit's round door. Bilbo had been calmly and quietly sitting to enjoy his evening meal, a supper of well prepared fish and his favorite biscuits. The hearth was warm at his back and his nose was filled with the mouth watering aroma of biscuits fresh from the oven. He had just been preparing to tuck in when the offending noise filled his home. The hollow knock of a raspy knuckle on his perfectly well painted front door. Bilbo's brow furrowed. Who on earth would call on him at this time of day? 

Bilbo strode across the room and pulled his door open to reveal a very stern looking and intimidating dwarf. The top of his head was bald, with rows of tattoos covering its shine. What hair he did have was around the lower level of his head and fell past his shoulders. He had a rough look about him, as most dwarves do, and his face was scrunched up in a permanent scowl, even as he politely introduced himself with a slight bow and an “at your service.” 

Dwalin, he said he was called.

Bilbo stood gaping like the fish he had left on his plate before remembering his manners. He introduced himself to the dwarf and shuffled out of his way with a perplexed look still plastered on his face. He watched in barely concealed horror as the dwarf sat himself down to eat Bilbo's supper. 

Bilbo opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to build up the courage to call the dwarf off his meal, when another knock echoed through his smial. The hobbit started at the noise, spine going ramrod straight and eyes the size of dinner plates. None-the-less, Bilbo was a well mannered gentle-hobbit, and therefore answered the door with what grace he could muster and allowed the next dwarf to enter without too much fuss. This dwarf was shorter than the first, with cotton white hair and beard and a twinkle in his wise eyes. 

Apparently, this was Dwalin's brother, Balin. 

Bilbo stood near his front door, attempting to compose himself as the brothers greeted each-other, but it was all for not. Another knock startled the befuddled hobbit. His hands were shaking with suppressed irritation as he opened the door for the third time. Now there were two more dwarves standing before Bilbo, smiling and bowing their heads as they introduced themselves. Some sort of rhyming names again, Kili and Fili or something, if Bilbo remembered correctly. These two looked a fair bit younger than the first, and quite attractive, Bilbo had to admit. The brunette had a mischievous look about him, as though he were constantly scheming. The blond, still having an air of youthful mischief, seemed a bit more wizened, probably the eldest of the two, if Bilbo were to guess. 

Bilbo sighed deeply and moved to allow the young dwarves into his home.  
“Please come in,” he said, defeated, “make yourselves at home, as I suspect you will anyhow,” he muttered under his breath. 

The dwarves did not seem to notice, as they were already animatedly greeting Balin and Dwalin in the other room.

Bilbo closed his eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to sooth his frayed nerves, when there was a great ruckus outside his front door. He pulled the door open to a pile of dwarves, who abruptly fell in to Bilbo's already over crowded space. Gandalf leaned in from behind the tangle and gave Bilbo an innocent grin, one that the hobbit was not for a minute fooled by. 

Bilbo thought he may have a stroke. Instead, he gathered the discarded jackets and assorted weaponry, most of which were larger than Bilbo himself, as the dwarves greeted each other joyfully and ransacked his pantry. 

* * * * *

Thorin studied the round green door before him with an uncertain frown. What kind of burglar lived in such quaint and... pretty accommodations? The walk leading up to said door was perfectly well kept, with lovely purple flowers bordering it on both sides. His frown twitched up at the corners as he heard the large group of dwarves he would soon be leading, singing and laughing uproariously in the little smial before him. 

Now was as good a time as any. He raised his hand and gave three sharp, firm, raps on the door. There was instantly silence on the other side. He smiled in spite of himself at the thought of his company already harboring such respect and anticipation of his arrival. The door before him opened and Thorin's heart nearly stopped. 

* * * * *

There had always been tales in dwarven culture of finding your One. Tales they mostly told little dwarflings to get them to go to bed at night. Tales riddled with true love and what the men would refer to as “soul-mates”. 

Finding your One was instant, love at first sight, and completely too ridiculous for Thorin, king in exile, to even think about. His sister, Dis, had taken to telling such tales at bedtime to her sons. The one night Thorin had insisted on telling war stories instead, his young nephews had woken with nightmares and nobody had slept that night. From then on, love stories it was. And, much to Thorin's dismay, the princes demanded he tell the stories more often than not. 

On one such night, Thorin had been in the middle of a perfectly ridiculous tale of a dwarven prince meeting his One, a fair dwarrowdam whose family were rivals to his, and desperately trying to win her affections. 

“But uncle,” a young Kili had begged, “how do you know? What does it feel like to find your One?” 

Thorin had closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation, deciding it was best to humor the young dwarf. Fili may have long been asleep since Thorin had started the bedtime story, but he knew Kili would not budge until his curiosity was satisfied.

“You just know, Kili. You feel it,” Thorin explained.  
“But what does it _feel_ like?” Kili persisted. 

Dis had thankfully stepped into the little bedroom at that point and saved Thorin from trying to put into words the mushy poetic garble that seemed to always be attached to these silly stories. 

“Kili, my love, finding your one is a very rare and beautiful thing. When you see them, all else surrounding you will fade. For that moment, all you can see is this one person. There will be a warmth that radiates from right here,” she said as she poked Kili in the ribs, causing him to giggle. “You will feel a pull as your universe re-aligns itself around this one other being. Suddenly, you will realize you have never been whole until this very moment. Your heart will stutter just a bit, only to catch time with your Ones own heartbeat and-” 

“And you will stand there looking like a bumbling fool,” Thorin finished chuckling. “Of all the silly nonsense. Tomorrow night, you can tell the bedtime stories, Dis.” 

* * * * *

Thorin stared down at the hobbit, the world he thought he knew now crumbling to ash, only to rebuild around this curious being. His breath caught in his lungs and he found it hard to remember where he was or why. His heart stuttered an irregular pattern in his chest, and he nearly staggered back at the shock of it. He had to swallow once or twice before he could quickly arrange his face into one of careful indifference. His eyes raked over the smaller form standing in the doorway before him. He noted the soft honeyed curls set aglow by the hearth in the background. The striking inquisitive eyes, now seemingly filled with unease as they gazed at Thorin. The hobbit was about a head shorter than Thorin, and while he was just as thick as the dwarf, he was obviously much less solid. 

Thorin finally regained his composure, remembering he had an audience, and he feigned disinterest as he strode around the hobbit and into the room. He knew if he tried to address their host directly, he would likely stutter and fumble his words. He could not chance showing such weakness in front of the dwarves who had sworn him their allegiance, their lives, if it came down to it. So, he let Gandalf lead the introductions, holding his contemptuous behavior to prove, more to himself than anyone, that he was not affected by their small host. 

“Bilbo Baggins, may I introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield,” the wizard stated behind him.

Thorin tensed for just a fraction of a second, realizing he would have to turn and face the hobbit, but quickly regained composure. He squared his shoulders and turned around, setting what he hoped was a lofty gaze on Bilbo. 

“So, this is the hobbit,” he said as he circled back. 

To one observing, it would look as though Thorin were sizing Bilbo up and finding him wanting. But the dwarf was simply trying to keep his feet moving so he would not have to lock eyes with this hobbit again. He could not fall as a love-struck fool to his knees on this simple creatures over-polished floors.

“Looks more like a grocer than a burglar,” Thorin scoffed, eliciting soft chuckles from his comrades. 

Thorin tried not to wince at the slightly affronted look on the hobbit's face at this observation.  
It would be easier to pretend Bilbo was irrelevant. 

Thorin strode into the dining room as his company filed in behind him. He sat at the hobbit's table and was brought a plate of food by Dori.

Hopefully, their host would not join their quest, and Thorin felt it was probable he would not. The hobbit had a good home here, not to mention, he was soft and gentle looking, not fit for harsh terrain and probable battle. No, the hobbit should stay here, safe with his books and creature comforts. Now that it entered Thorin's mind, the thought of Bilbo joining them terrified him. He could not live with himself if the hobbit were to come to harm under his care. 

* * * * *

Bilbo stood in a corner of the dining room as he observed the dwarves seated at his table. The evenings unexpected events had been quite jarring up to this point, and he wasn't sure how much more he could take. Not to mention the company leader put Bilbo ill at ease. He was not sure why, but he was almost certain Thorin despised him. How the dwarf had managed to develop such a low opinion of him in such a short time was beyond him, but Bilbo tried to put it from his mind for the moment and pay attention to what was being said. 

* * * * *

Thorin sat rigidly in his chair, disturbingly aware of the hobbit standing in the corner behind him. He could feel the hobbit's gaze, much as he tried to ignore the other's very existence, as the dwarves surrounding him conversed. He was frowning pointedly at the table, as though it had offered him personal insult, when he felt another gaze boring into him. He glanced up to see Balin leveling him with a knowing look. Thorin grimaced, and Balin had the audacity to wink at him and nod towards Bilbo, who had come to stand temptingly close to Thorin's shoulder. 

Bilbo was holding the light a bit higher that Gandalf may get a closer look at a map that was now unfurled across the table. 

Thorin was not prepared to be hit with such close proximity to Bilbo. He could feel the warmth radiate off the smaller body, and thought he caught the faint smell of pipe weed and trees and sunshine. Thorin couldn't help himself and inhaled deeply to take in the scent. His eyes closed of their own accord and he nearly groaned at the amazing aroma. He leaned back and opened his eyes to catch Balin chuckling under his breath on the other side of the table.  
Dammit.  
He had been distracted for far too long. What was being said? He looked around and saw that all eyes were on him. Balin took mercy and quickly stood, pulling out the contract for Bilbo to review. 

* * * * *

Thorin lay in his bedroll on the floor of the hobbit's sitting room. The snores of the company rumbled around him, like an anti-lullaby. He was certain he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, distracted as he was with these... stirrings in his chest. Warmth radiating, a pull tugging him in the direction of Bilbo's bedroom. 

Did Bilbo feel it? The incessant pull? Did hobbits even have Ones?

Thorin groaned, turning over onto his side and pulled the blanket up to his chin with a huff. This was not becoming behavior of a king. However, he couldn't help but feel slighted by his maker.  
Destined to a hobbit.  
What kind of dwarf king takes a hobbit as consort?

The thought sent Thorin's mind spinning. Bilbo standing next to him in the halls of Erebor, delicate golden circlet upon his brow, accented in emeralds the exact deep shade of green as the vines over the hobbit's garden gate. Bilbo, draped in Durin blue, seated on the throne at Thorin's side, ankles crossed and furry feet bare, listening intently to their peoples grievances. 

Thorin let out a sigh of resignation. There was nothing for it. It was his fate. He would have to win over Bilbo Baggins.


	2. In which Thorin is oddly clumsy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! This one is coming to me easier than I had expected! Hopefully I can keep up the momentum I seem to have found! Please enjoy!

The first several days were a bit trying for Bilbo. Having dwarves as overnight guests and spending every moment with them cross country were two very different things. Not that Bilbo didn't like his newfound travel mates. He simply found he did not fit in, a fact he had already been aware of, though apparently he had not been aware of the extent of. 

Thorin had kept his distance, for the most part. Though Bilbo couldn't help but to notice the dwarf was very suspicious of him. Bilbo couldn't blame him, not really, after all the dwarves had been through. He had heard stories from a handful of them, about the hard times they had faced after the dragon. Times of hardship and betrayal. Times when their leader had worked his hardest for far less than he was worth simply to feed their little ones.

Therefore, it was understandable that the dwarf king in particular would be a bit hesitant to trust outsiders. However, Bilbo thought their fine leader might be feeling something a bit more deep than mistrust. The king must absolutely hate Bilbo. It was the only reasonable explanation! 

It had been raining for quite some time, and the dwarves were all in foul tempers. Soggy boots and cold wind that bit through the flesh did not bring about the most sunny of dispositions, and Bilbo hadn't been in the best of moods to begin with. When the sun began to dip below the horizon, it was clear the dark clouds would not let up their smothering of the faint light of the stars, and so the company had been forced to halt. They found a small cave protected from most of the rain and wind, and all were grumbling as they hunkered down. 

Thorin sent his nephews off to try to find dry firewood, but Bilbo was certain there would be none to find. He shivered and grumbled into his hands as he attempted to breathe some warmth into his frozen fingers. 

Approaching footsteps drew Bilbo's attention, and he glanced over to find Thorin standing quite close to him, avoiding his gaze and looking a bit lost. He gave the dwarf a moment, before he cleared his throat pointedly, and Thorin looked at him as though he had just realized Bilbo was sitting there.

“Here,” Thorin finally bit out as he extended his coat to the hobbit. “I... I know hobbits don't have thick skin like dwarves.” 

If Bilbo didn't know any better, he would say Thorin was being thoughtful.

“Oh. I- Thank you,” Bilbo mumbled. He reached out just as Thorin dropped the heavy cloak right on his head. The hobbit toppled over, hitting his chin smartly on the cave floor. He scuffled about, until finally he managed to get the garment off his face. He gave Thorin an annoyed look, obviously miffed.

Thorin's face hardened. “Well, since you didn't even grab anything of use to bring with you, when you decided to follow us. I can't worry that you'll catch cold and slow us down.” With that, Thorin turned and stormed away, leaving Bilbo feeling quite put out at the dwarf's callous statements. 

Can't worry that Bilbo would slow them down? Alright then. He wouldn't.

* * * * *

Morning brought with it a bright glow of sunshine. The trees glistened with raindrops reflecting the warm light like crystals strewn through the canopy. Bilbo's eyes flickered open, the suns warm rays a welcome comfort after the cold night. He grinned when he noticed Thorin's cloak over him, then frowned as he remembered the dwarf's angry grumblings form the night before. He glanced around, making sure he wasn't the last to rise, and he swore he would not be the last one ready to go. He wouldn't give Thorin the satisfaction of being right about Bilbo slowing them down. 

Bilbo hopped to his feet and trudged over to their leader.   
“Here,” Bilbo thrusted the cloak out towards Thorin, who took it hesitantly from the hobbit's small hands. “And uh... thank you. It was very.... warm.”  
Thorin nodded slowly, a grin playing about his lips.   
“Well, I- I suppose I should be getting ready to leave,” Bilbo turned and walked back over to his pack, gathering his things to go.   
“Here now, Master Baggins, have yourself something to eat before we have to head on,” Dori thrusted a bowl of some sort of goo toward Bilbo, and the hobbit was far too polite to refuse. “Oh- well... thank you.” He took the offered spoon and sat himself down, hesitant to dig in. The goo stuck to the spoon, then rolled off reluctantly, landing back in the bowl with a sickening splat. 

Bilbo wrinkled his nose. Well, there was nothing for it. He was lucky they were taking the time to eat breakfast at all. He hesitantly brought the spoon to his mouth and took a small bite.

The goo was surprisingly good. Some kind of tubers and greens, all mashed together with a hint of... carrot? Bombur must be a wizard with spices, Bilbo thought as he shoveled in another spoonful. It took all his restraint not to lick the bowl when he was finished. He lowered it sadly, then looked around, finally noticing Thorin had been watching him. The king stifled a grin, then turned away quickly, picking up his pack and bedroll.

“Time to go!” Thorin shouted, and everyone hurried to grab up their things, and they were off once again.

* * * * *

The day had been long, but the sun had stayed with them, no rainclouds marred the sky as they marched along. It was just cooling off, the first suggestion of evening, when they came to the Brandywine River. The rain from the day before had brought up the water level, the rushing current nearly touching the bottom of the bridge before them. 

Bilbo stiffened nervously. Like most hobbits, he was no fan of water, and the sight of the powerful river rushing along its banks made him more than a bit uneasy. 

“We'll go single file. Walk your ponies. Master Baggins, you and I will go last,” Thorin ordered.

Bilbo frowned.   
Last? With Thorin? Why?   
As if he had heard the hobbit's thoughts, Thorin came to stand next to Bilbo.  
“You look nervous,” Thorin said softly, giving the hobbit a sidelong glance.  
Bilbo frowned. “I don't like water,” he answered honestly.   
Thorin nodded once, his face unreadable. They watched as the other company members made their way across the bridge. Finally it was just them left, and Thorin made to go first.   
“Stay close, Master Baggins,” Thorin muttered, and Bilbo did just that. They had made it halfway across the bridge, when Bilbo slipped on the wet wood. 

Thorin reached out to catch the hobbit, but only managed to smack Bilbo full on in the face, knocking him over the railing and into the raging waters below. 

“Bilbo!” Thorin roared. He looked to the shore where the other dwarves stood watching. “Kili!” Thorin watching in panic as his nephew threw himself into the water. Fili was already pulling out a length of rope, securing it around Bombur. Thorin ran the length of the bridge and joined them. He picked up the length of rope with the rest of the company, while Fili attempted to get one end to his brother. Bombur sat himself down, the anchor at the other end.

Thorin searched the surface of the river wildly, desperate for some sign of Bilbo and Kili. He let out a relieved breath as a mass of dark hair broke the surface, the small form of a hobbit tightly held in Kili's grasp. 

“Pull!” Fili ordered, inching as close to the water as he dared, pulling the rope determinedly. “Kili! Kili, you're almost there! Hold on!” 

Finally, Fili could reach his brother's hand. He dropped the rope and pulled Kili onto the shore, a coughing and spluttering Bilbo crawling from the dark haired prince's grasp. 

“Alright, Ki?” Fili asked as Kili lay panting on the grass.   
Kili nodded as he gulped in air. “I'm fine. Bilbo?” he turned to the hobbit.

Bilbo shook his head, still coughing and sputtering, his face red with the effort. 

“Bilbo? Bilbo are you alright?” Thorin pushed his way to the hobbit's side, then slapped him hard on the back.

A fountain of water poured from Bilbo's mouth as his arms and legs buckled under the force of the dwarf's strong hand. There were a few more coughs, then Bilbo tried to roll up to sitting.

“Here!” Bofur pulled his cloak from his shoulders and flung it around the hobbit. “There now, Bilbo lad, we'll get you dry and warmed up in no time. Come on now!” Bofur helped the hobbit to his feet, ignoring the scowl directed toward him. 

* * * * *

A warm gust of air wrapped around Bilbo, stinging his frozen fingers and toes as he was led into the inn. The dwarves followed, Bofur a constant warm presence at his side, and Thorin wearing his trademark grimace as he paid the man behind the counter for a few rooms. The dwarves began to pair off, three or four to a room, and Bilbo found himself bustled along by Bofur. His tremors had not subsided, and he was losing the feeling in his appendages.

“Don't ya worry now, Bilbo. You can stay with me and Bombur and Bifur. There'll be plenty of room. Course you'll have to share with Bombur. But he shouldn't squash ya too bad.”

“Master Baggins will be staying with me,” Thorin's voice was firm, his face drawn into a severe scowl.

“I should think I am a bit too old to have you making decisions for me as though I were some fauntling, Thorin Oakenshield! I won't have you bossing me about like you do this lot!” Bilbo crossed his arms in front of his chest, the angry look on his face ruined by the obvious chattering of his teeth.

“My room is the only one with a fireplace. You'll be needing the warmth,” Thorin explained, his voice softer and eyes gentle. 

Bilbo huffed, shooting a dirty look at the floor in frustration.

“He's right, you know,” Bofur offered. “You're lips are still a bit blue.”

“Alright then, lead on,” Bilbo consented, gesturing in annoyance for Thorin to show him the way. Really, for a dwarf to feel so threatened by a lowly hobbit that he felt the need to fib about needing a fire. Bilbo would have been plenty warm with any of the others. Dwarves bodies ran terribly hot. All he would have to do is climb in next to Bombur and he would be warm in no time! The thought of doing so with Thorin left the hobbit suddenly quite nervous and afraid.   
Would Thorin help him to warm up? Or would he leave him to shiver on the floor by the hearth? 

Bilbo's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door creaking open. They had come to their room. Thorin held the door for Bilbo, ushering him in. 

“Get those wet clothes off, Master Baggins. I'll lend you a tunic and trousers,” Thorin said as he hung his cloak on the peg behind the door. “They'll be a bit loose, but they should keep out the chill.” Thorin moved to light the fire. 

Bilbo hesitated, unwilling to simply strip naked in front of this pompous dwarf who was still all but a stranger really. He hung his sopping wet coat, then fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.

Thorin grinned, his gaze moving to Bilbo's face with a look of amusement. “I won't look, Master Baggins. There's no need for modesty between friends. You are shivering. We need to get something dry on you.”

Bilbo nodded, gratefully taking the clothes Thorin pulled from his pack.   
“Here. Get changed. I'll go find some hot food to warm your bones,” Thorin grinned again and left, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

Bilbo let out a measured breath. Thorin made him more nervous than anyone he'd ever met in his life. It bothered Bilbo, knowing the dwarf had such an affect on him, and he wondered at Thorin calling him his friend. Was this how it was between dwarves? He was sure the others didn't have such a.... strained friendship with Thorin.

Bilbo refused to dwell on it. He quickly stripped out of his wet clothes and hung them to dry over the back of the chair near the fire. 

When Thorin returned, he found Bilbo sitting quite close to the flames, Thorin's loose tunic hanging low over one pale soft shoulder. Thorin swallowed, closing the door audibly to announce his return. 

Bilbo stood, pulling on the hem of the overlarge tunic in an attempt to cover his bare legs. “The bottoms... they didn't fit. I couldn't get my feet in,” Bilbo said nervously.

The corner of Thorin's mouth quirked in a grin. “Really?” He set the tray of soup and tea on the table before the hearth and took up the discarded trousers. He pulled a knife from inside his boot and sliced through the hem of first one trouser leg then the other. Then he shoved the knife back in it's place and handed the trousers to Bilbo.  
“There. That should do it,” Thorin announced.

Bilbo swallowed thickly. Had Thorin just sliced his own trousers so Bilbo would have something dry to wear? Perhaps they were friends.  
“Thank you,” he said weakly. 

Thorin nodded in response, then stood up to kick his boots off. “We should get some sleep, Master Baggins. Morning will come swiftly, and we'll be leaving rather early.”

Bilbo nodded, suddenly realizing there was only one bed.   
It was going to be a long night indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me! I've never done the "there's only one bed" thing. I'm kind of excited to see how it ends up!  
> Comments and kudos fuel my creativity!   
> More soon!


	3. In which there is only one bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Finally got around to updating this one. Sorry to leave you hanging for so long! Hopefully you haven't given up on me. Enjoy!

The soup and tea had helped. Bilbo wasn't feeling quite so frozen, thanks to the hot liquids, though he couldn't quite feel his nose and his limbs were still a bit numb. He sat uneasily, holding his empty bowl in shaking hands, uncertain of what to do next. 

“Master Baggins?” Bilbo jumped at Thorin's voice, suddenly so close. “Here,” he reached over and took Bilbo's bowl, placing it on a table near the fire. “You're still shaking.”

“Yes. Well. I'll be warm again soon enough,” Bilbo said.

Thorin glanced around the room, as though he were stealing himself to say something uncomfortable. Finally, he seemed to find his tongue. “I- I could... help.” He swallowed thickly and his cheeks tinged pink.

Was the great Thorin Oakenshield blushing?

“Oh. That's very kind of you. But you don't have to force yourself to be nice to me. I know you don't like me, and that suits me just fine.”

Thorin frowned at the infuriating being before him. Did he not feel the pull that drew them together? “I know I don't have to be nice to you. I don't have to be anything. But.....” Thorin's voice lowered, softening almost sadly. “I do not dislike you.”

Bilbo licked his lips, unable to come up with an adequate response. 

“Master Baggins, you know the quickest way for you to get warm would be to share heat,” Thorin said gently. 

Bilbo closed his eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to settle his rapidly beating heart. Why was he feeling so anxious? It was quite silly really. Thorin was absolutely right. He should be warm by now, and the fact that he wasn't only proved he needed help. He pushed himself to his feet and followed Thorin across the room. If he didn't know any better, he'd say the dwarf was nervous too. But why ever would a brave dwarven warrior be nervous around a hobbit?

Bilbo glanced at the bed, his hands trembling a bit as he watched Thorin climb in. The dwarf paused, giving Bilbo an uncertain look.

“Would you prefer it if I slept on the floor?”

Bilbo's eyes widened.

“N-no, no that's silly. Why don't you take the bed. I can sleep on the rug. It's closer to the fire anyway and perhaps I can manage to shake the cold,” Bilbo said a bit numbly.

“Master Baggins, I insist you sleep in the bed. You have mentioned many times how you are not accustomed to sleeping on the ground, and this will be the last opportunity to sleep on a mattress for quite some time,” Thorin argued. “And, as I said, it would be warmer here with me.”

Bilbo hesitated a moment, shaking the indecent thoughts that had just assaulted him. Really, how much less like a Baggins could he actually be?  
This was silly. The bed was sized for two men, and they were both quite a bit smaller than a man. There would be more than enough room for them both. 

With that settled, Bilbo nodded determinedly and climbed into the bed. He laid down on his side, facing the wall, and pulled the blanket up to his neck. The mattress dipped behind him as Thorin settled in not far from Bilbo's back. It was quiet for some time, and then the room was filled with the sound of Thorin's soft snores. 

* * * * * 

Bilbo couldn't sleep. Shivers continued to wrack his frame, and his teeth chattered loudly. He could feel the cold night air as it seeped through the rattling window. He shivered again, his limbs gone numb after his dip in the river, and now the wet chill of the night. A flash of lightening lit up the room as a clap of thunder shook the building. Bilbo shot up and leapt to Thorin's side, burrowing in next to the dwarf's warm body. Bilbo froze as Thorin groaned softly. The mattress shifted and Thorin turned toward Bilbo. Bilbo inhaled sharply as a hot body pressed against him, a heavy warm arm wrapping over his side. 

Bilbo tried to scramble away quickly, but the arms around him tightened.  
“Hush,” Thorin breathed over Bilbo's face. “I've hardly managed to sleep with all the teeth chattering,” Thorin's deep voice rumbled in his chest, vibrating against Bilbo's heart in a way that made the hobbit's breath catch in his throat. “Lie still,” Thorin whispered, “you'll warm up soon.”

Bilbo lay quite stiffly for a moment, hands braced on Thorin's chest in an attempt at keeping him away. Eventually, he relaxed, and caused Thorin to jump when his cold nose burrowed into the dwarf's collar bone. Thorin didn't complain. He tucked Bilbo's head under his chin and closed his eyes. Bilbo couldn't let his eyes fall closed until he felt Thorin's steady even breaths rustle his curls. The dwarf seemed to enjoy cuddling in his sleep. Why shouldn't he take advantage of such comfort? Bilbo hunkered down, melting into the warm embrace of the dwarf king. 

* * * * *

Warmth. There was a warm body huddled close, and Thorin was pressed hard against it. It felt nice. Very nice. The soft fleshy backside pressed so tightly against his... oh! Thorin's eyes snapped open, panic trickling hot down his spine. He needed to get out of bed quickly before Bilbo woke. Wouldn't that just send the proper little gentle hobbit running for the hills? Thorin Oakenshield, failure at courtship and all things that did not involve killing orcs and smithing, shoving his hard morning hammer into Bilbo's unknowing butt cheek. He could almost see the disgusted and shocked look on the hobbit's face if he were to wake up to that. 

Thorin slowly began extricating his arm from Bilbo's grip. The hobbit had wrapped himself completely around Thorin's arm and was loath to release it. It took a good long while, and more finesse than the king was used to applying, but finally, his limbs were free. He eased himself onto his back, careful not to jostle Bilbo, and gingerly rose from the bed. Bilbo didn't stir. He made no sound or movement to indicate he had noticed the sudden loss of his sleep partner. Thorin moved to the door and slipped on his boots before bolting from the room to take a much needed walk and to find some breakfast. 

He had been so stupid. How could he have been so thick? He was a king, for Mahal's sake! A king from a displaced kingdom, but no matter. He never should have forced Bilbo to lay close to him last night. The hobbit had stiffened at their proximity, but Thorin hadn't cared in the moment. That soft skin, the silky curls, the way the hobbit had melded against him as he found warmth. He was sure Bilbo would have made it clear if he was not comfortable. At least, Thorin hoped so. Forcing someone to cuddle with you wasn't exactly proper, was it? And what exactly _did_ hobbits find proper? Did they have courting traditions? Had Thorin crossed a line? Perhaps he would have to do some digging. It was time for him to just accept the fact that Bilbo was his One, hand chosen by Mahal himself. He would need to find a way to show his intentions so that Bilbo would understand. 

* * * * *

Bilbo took a steadying breath. It had been so difficult to feign sleep when he had woken to Thorin pressed in so close behind him. He had held on to the blazing heat of the dwarf's arm, hoping Thorin would give up and cuddle back in. When it was clear Thorin was so eager to get as far from Bilbo as possible, the hobbit had finally given the limb up. Thorin's hasty retreat left dread pooling icy cold in Bilbo's stomach. What had he been thinking, holding on to Thorin like that? He was a Baggins! Snuggling and clinging to a dwarf he hardly knew was most indecent for a hobbit of such respectable lineage. Although, he couldn't deny it, he would never have gotten properly warm without the help of the dwarf's immense body heat. He had been nearly sweating by morning, Thorin's body had been so hot. That solid wall of heat against him, the warm arms pulling him closer as Bilbo burrowed into that muscular chest. The tickle of coarse hair against his face as he breathed in Thorin's scent.  
“Master Baggins, breakfast,” Thorin's voice broke through the pleasant memory.  
“Right.” Bilbo sat upright, blushing fiercely. “Be right there.”  
Thorin gave a nod and left Bilbo to get dressed.

* * * * *

Thorin looked over the company. They were gathering their things and readying themselves for the next leg of their journey. He hoped it wouldn't be long before they were on their way. They had a long road ahead of them. 

“You seem quite distracted this morning, Thorin,” Balin's tone and the knowing glint in his eye left Thorin feeling a bit defensive.  
“What of it?” he demanded.  
Balin shrugged, nonplussed. “Just seems to me you haven't been quite all there since you arrived at Bag End.”  
Thorin scowled. “I'm eager to move on, that's all.”  
Balin narrowed his eyes in that obnoxious way that meant he knew you were lying, but he was letting you know that he was going to allow your excuses to stand. For now. Thorin sighed. There would be a fun conversation to be had later.  
“Erm, Thorin?” That voice nearly had him in a panic as it came from seemingly nowhere. Perhaps Gandalf was right. Bilbo would make a great burglar. Very light on his feet.

“Here,” Bilbo held out a bundle of carefully folded clothes. “Thank you- for- for letting me borrow these. And... and for- you know- with the warmth.”  
Thorin's lips slowly curled into a grin as Bilbo blushed and stammered.  
“It was my pleasure,” Thorin answered softly.  
Bilbo turned an even deeper shade of crimson. He glanced around guiltily, fidgeting for a moment, then turned and nearly ran away.  
Thorin would have to learn about hobbit courtship. And soon.

* * * * *

Bilbo spent the day as far from the other members of the company as he could manage. They had purchased some ponies from a stable in Bree and were now making much better time than when they had been on foot. The quickened pace seemed to put the dwarves in good spirits, but Bilbo hardly noticed. He was too busy playing the previous night over and over in his head. He had managed to decide that at least two things were true. Number one, Thorin did not hate him. And number two, Bilbo was quite drawn to Thorin. He wasn't sure what to do with these facts, or that he should necessarily do anything with them. His fondness for Thorin was most likely an infatuation brought on by the fact that Thorin was a big strong king, and heightened due to the fact that Bilbo had been quite without any sort of physical affection for quite a bit longer than he cared to think about. 

Evening did nothing to halt his thoughts. In fact, Bilbo only seemed more and more drawn into his head as the daylight faded and he found himself sitting on the cold hard ground next to a blazing fire. Conversation faded in and out as the dwarves shared stories and future hopes for their kingdom. It was then that Bilbo noticed Thorin staring at him. By the looks of it, he had been staring at Bilbo for quite some time. Though Bilbo thought it wasn't as much staring as scowling. He wasn't sure how else to describe it. Thorin's eyes were blazing, as though a fire burned within them. His jaw was clenched, nostrils flaring, his tension nearly palpable. When he realized Bilbo was returning his gaze, he quickly turned his head, feigning interest in Gloin's lamenting about missing his wife and son. Not that it hadn't been heard before. Gloin had been waxing poetic about his family for days.

Bilbo shook his head and turned to listen to Gloin's rambling. It was heartwarming really, the love Gloin obviously had for his wife. Bilbo listened with rapt attention, as though he could delete the memory of Thorin's intense gaze just by listening attentively to something else. Soon Bombur joined in Gloin's gushing, telling tales of his three children and how he had gone about courting his wife when first they met. Bilbo grinned. It was truly a romantic tale.

“What about you, Master Baggins?” Ori's voice suddenly came from somewhere close to Bilbo's right.  
“I- what about me?” Bilbo frowned in confusion.  
“Is there a hobbit lass back home waiting for you?” Ori asked, his curiosity evident.  
“Oh, no. No hobbit lass in my life,” Bilbo answered with a smile.  
“Don't hobbits court?” Thorin asked gruffly.  
Suddenly, all eyes were on Bilbo. “Well, yes.....” he frowned.  
“Was there ever a Mrs. Baggins? Or is there someone you are interested in?” Thorin asked impatiently.  
Bilbo huffed, a bit thrown off by the sudden attention on him. “No. No there isn't. Nor has there ever been.”  
Thorin's brow furrowed. “Why not? Why have you never courted? Has no one shown interest, or have you not met anyone who interested you? Or perhaps you're just determined to die alone?”  
Bilbo worked his mouth a bit, surprised and dismayed. Was Thorin being an ass intentionally? Or was it just his natural state? 

Bilbo clenched his jaw, steeling himself for a rebuttal. “What about you, Thorin? Are you determined to die alone? Surely the great Thorin Oakenshield would have no trouble finding a lass to share his life with.”  
Thorin scowled. “There will never be a lass for me.”  
Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Why not? Can't find one good enough for you?”  
Thorin's ears reddened, his scowl deepening in his discomfort. “Well what's your excuse then?” he demanded.  
“I will have you know, Thorin Oakenshield, some day I do intend to marry. And anyone I choose would be more than lucky to have me. In fact, many of the things you see as weaknesses are actually desirable to hobbits! You'd do well to remember, I am the most eligible bachelor in all of the Shire!” With that, he turned tail and strode off to find his bedroll. 

Bilbo fumed as he threw himself into his bedroll. It really didn't matter what Thorin Oakenshield thought, and Bilbo knew it was pointless for him to have gone off on him like that. The differences between dwarves and hobbits were surely not going to be settled in one evening, and surely not by Bilbo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Stay safe everyone!


	4. In which Thorin apologizes... sort of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I hope this isn't confusing at first, but I skipped ahead a bit in our story. Let's assume we are canon compliant starting at the end of the last chapter up to this point. And.... action!

Bilbo scrubbed his hands over his face, the adrenaline fleeing his system left him feeling..... tired. Deflated and empty. 

It wasn't as though Bilbo had intentionally been captured by the trolls. Though honestly, listening to Fili and Kili had been entirely his own mistake. He should have known better than to try to steal back their ponies. Still, Thorin's anger after their narrow escape had been enough to unnerve Bilbo quite a bit. The dwarf had nearly hauled Bilbo into the air by his shirt, eyes roving over him frantically, as though he expected Bilbo to be covered in cuts and life threatening gashes. 

Bilbo was fine. He was just a bit bruised. And quite shaken up. Yet Thorin had stomped off in a fury after assessing him. Bilbo knew the dwarves must all blame him for their capture and for nearly being eaten. Clearly their leader did.

Bilbo glanced around. Bofur gave him a reassuring smile, one of the flaps of his silly hat still smoking a bit. Bombur gave him a slight nod, but Bilbo couldn't tell the intention behind it. 

“Quick thinking there, lad.”  
Bilbo jumped, turning to face the dwarf who had snuck up on him. “Oh. Balin. I- thank you. I suppose.” Bilbo shook his head. “I'm afraid I've done more harm than good.”  
“Nonsense, laddie. You did what none of us thought to do. You bought enough time to save us all.”  
Bilbo blushed, a bit embarrassed at the high praise. He didn't feel like he'd really done anything. “I only thought of it before you'd had a chance to.”  
“Don't underestimate yourself, lad. Gandalf chose you for a reason, and I believe we've only just tapped into your potential.” Balin winked before moving to join Thorin in taking count of supplies. 

“Thorin?”   
Thorin sighed, pausing for just a moment in his sorting. “What is it, Balin?” he asked, exasperation leaking unbidden into his tone.  
“I believe you have frazzled our Mr. Baggins,” Balin observed.  
Thorin huffed and spun around to face his friend. “He shouldn't have put himself in such danger! He risked the entire company!”  
“Yes, but he did manage to spare us a most uncomfortable end.”  
“That doesn't excuse it!”  
Balin frowned. Thorin was being more cranky than usual. “What is it really that you're really upset about?”  
“What do you mean? I'm obviously upset because of the danger the hobbit's actions have brought upon my company!”  
“Thorin, you've never gotten so angry over a close brush with death. It's nothing new to us. What's really bothering you?”

Thorin growled in frustration. “He should be more careful!”  
“Bilbo?”  
“Yes.”  
Balin thought for a moment. “He was just following along with your nephews.”  
“Only a fool would listen to Fili and Kili!”

“So, you think me a fool?” Bilbo's pained and angry voice nearly brought Thorin to his knees. He didn't mean to upset the hobbit. He didn't truly think Bilbo a fool, but his temper always seemed to get the best of him.  
“Yes! If you can be roped into listening to my ridiculous nephew, you would HAVE to be a fool!”  
“Hey!” “Uncle!?”  
Thorin grimaced. Perhaps he had gone too far. “Wait, Bilbo I-”  
Bilbo held up a hand and glared at Thorin. “Oh, you've made your stance on the subject quite clear.” Bilbo pulled his hands into fists at his side and stormed off.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Balin commented.  
Thorin looked to his sulking nephews, then turned his gaze to his feet with a huff. He looked back up at Balin, his expression open and earnest. “I can't have them getting hurt, Balin. Any of them.”  
“Thorin?”  
Thorin had already turned away, and his stance made it clear the discussion was over.

* * * * *

Thorin was not happy. He was not happy to have been chased down by an orc pack, and he was certainly not happy to be playing nice with a lot of pointy eared elves. Of course, their stop meant he could rest. Rest, and spend a bit more time contemplating what he was going to do about Bilbo. He felt terrible about their last interaction, and most of the interactions they'd ever had really. Why was he so bad at this?

It was the third full day of Thorin having holed himself up in his rooms, refusing to come out for any reason. He was determined to develop a plan, a plan to fix this and finally show Bilbo how much he meant to him. He wouldn't screw this up. 

“Thorin?” Kili's voice called through the door, followed by a soft knock. “May we come in?”

Thorin sighed in defeat and rubbed at his temples. “Alright. Let's get this over with.”  
The door opened and Fili and Kili entered the room, looking somber and all too dramatic for Thorin's taste. 

“Uncle? We would like to speak with you,” Fili began as Kili closed the door.   
Thorin rolled his eyes. “I figured that. Go on,” he urged impatiently.  
“It's about Bilbo,” Kili blurted.  
Thorin groaned in frustration. “I could have guessed as much.”  
“We are concerned-”   
“What's going on with you two?” Kili interrupted his brother with his less tactful, more direct approach.  
Thorin crossed his arms over his chest and turned his head toward the wall. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Fili gave Thorin a reproachful look, and Kili nearly burst into laughter.   
“Do you think us daft, uncle?” Kili chuckled. “You've been all but drooling after him since we left Hobbiton!”

Thorin groaned again, burying his face in his hands.   
“What Kili means is, do you not think it may be time to let Bilbo know how you feel?”  
“To what end? He won't even look at me!” Thorin demanded, glaring at his well meaning nephews.  
“Well, maybe you could try... not acting like a gigantic orc's ass?” Kili offered.  
“I've tried! I've tried being....”  
“Sweet?” Fili tried.  
“Yes, and it just doesn't ever work out the way I plan!”  
Kili frowned. “When have you been sweet to him? I've only ever seen you speak to him like he's pissed you off, or look at him like you want to take him behind the nearest tree and-”  
“Kili!” Fili elbowed his little brother in the ribs.   
“Well! The other night by the fire, I thought he was going to jump him!” Kili turned to Thorin. “Is the pull that strong?” Kili's confused frown turned into a gleeful smile. “Is he.....”  
“Kili,” Thorin said in warning as Fili glanced between the two, completely lost.  
“He is!” Kili said excitedly.  
“Wait, is what?” Fili asked.  
“Bilbo is uncle's One!”  
Fili's lips curled into a devilish grin. “Oh really?”  
“Stop. Just stop,” Thorin begged, mortified.  
“Well done, uncle!”  
Thorin rolled his eyes. “It's not like I chose it, Fili. It's Mahal's will.”

Kili's face suddenly became serious, as though a switch had flipped within him. “Alright, Fili? Go to Ori and see what all he has discovered about hobbit's courting habits. I know he regularly interrogates Bilbo on hobbit culture. Maybe he can do some digging. Uncle Thorin? We have work to do.”

Fili nodded to his brother, then shot his uncle another cheeky grin before quickly leaving the room.

* * * * *

Several hours later found Thorin with freshly washed and braided hair, some sort of scented oil in his beard, and far less armor on his person than he was comfortable with, particularly in an elven city. He grumbled again as he fidgeted, moving his hands over his chest self-consciously and lamenting the lack of protective layering. He was allowed a thick tunic, one in the same shade of blue as his eyes. Dwalin had insisted it was one of Thorin's best features, which was incredibly strange for Thorin to hear from his best mate. Ori had insisted on braiding flowers in Thorin's hair, but the king had to draw the line somewhere. There was no way he was going that far, hobbit courting traditions be damned. He was still a dwarf. And so, Thorin stood waiting in the faint light of the sunset for Bilbo. 

Thorin's heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest. The waiting was excruciating, his nerves tight and worn in anticipation. When Bilbo finally did show up, the dwarf was barely less than frantic. 

“Good evening Thorin,” Bilbo said cautiously as he approached. “Balin said... you wanted to speak to me?”  
Thorin nodded his head lightly.   
“Are you going to pitch me from the balcony, or profess your undying love?” Bilbo teased, sounding a bit accusatory.  
Thorin froze, his eyes going wide as saucers and he struggled to find an appropriate response. “I- well I.....”  
Bilbo frowned, watching Thorin struggle to find words. “Is this about what happened after the trolls?”  
Thorin's brow furrowed, then he took the opportunity for what it was worth. “Yes. Yes, this is an apology for..... how- how I behaved after.... after that.”  
Bilbo looked surprised, but quite pleased. “Well, consider yourself forgiven, then.” He smiled and patted Thorin's arm before turning and walking away.

Thorin grimaced. He should call out to Bilbo, tell him to come back. He should lay his heart bare, let Bilbo see all of him and let him in. But he stood there and chewed idly on his bottom lip. If he ever he had been looking for his chance, that would have been it.

* * * * *

Bilbo nearly ran back to his room after he had gotten out of Thorin's line of sight. What had he been thinking? He had meant it as a joke, and perhaps wishful thinking on his part, asking if Thorin were going to kill him or wax poetic about love. But judging by the absolutely astonished look on Thorin's face, it was a poorly chosen jest. 

Bilbo slammed his door shut and leaned back against it with a groan. Dammit. He was so far out of his depth. Thorin could hardly stand him. He needed to get these silly romantic notions out of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think


	5. In which their fates are entwined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!!!  
> Ok, so, I'm not gonna lie, this is a bit of a filler chapter. The scenes between the lines are canon compliant. Please forgive me for taking an extra week to update.

The mountain pass had been cold and unyielding, rocky and slick with the ever present rain pouring over the company in sheets. Bilbo's feet kept slipping on the wet rocky path, and the rain showed no signs of slowing its relentless assault. They had pressed on against the frigid wind, and stopped only when they saw the giants. 

“He has no place among us!”  
Thorin's callous words echoed in Bilbo's head as he trudged along with the rest of the company. Ori turned and put a reassuring hand on Bilbo's shoulder. Bilbo couldn't quite muster up the brave grin he wanted to return. He felt empty and hollow. Somehow Thorin's ire cut into him more than it should. Bilbo didn't care what Thorin thought. Sure he didn't like to make anyone angry, but he had done nothing wrong! He was risking his life and limb for these dwarves, dwarves he hadn't even known, to begin with. Why did Thorin despise him so? Bilbo's spirits sunk ever lower as the darkness grew ever more daunting.

“Thorin?” Balin's voice was low as he approached the brooding king. “Thorin, why would you say that? We all know how you feel about that hobbit.”  
Thorin shook his head. “My heart could not withstand losing him. This quest will be the death of him. And his loss will be the death of me.”  
“Lad, you know what will happen if he leaves now, at least without proper refusal” Balin warned softly.  
Thorin refused to even acknowledge that he had heard.  
“Thorin?!”  
Thorin sighed, defeated. “Yes, Balin, I know.”  
“Then you know you must fix this.”  
“Fix what!? I haven't managed to convey anything that would need fixing! I am an utter failure at this, Balin! He can hardly stand to be near me.”  
“Sorry,” Bofur interrupted, “I couldn't help but overhear. Have ya tried smiling at him?”  
Thorin scowled at Bofur.  
“Now I meant no offense, just that... you don't always look the most approving of him is all. Until just recently I was right certain you didn't care for the hobbit. Maybe he doesn't realize either?” Bofur shrugs. “Just thought ya might give it a go.”

Thorin furrowed his brow, considering for a moment. He turned his head just a bit and caught Bilbo watching him. It was the perfect moment for an apologetic smile.

“Er...” Bofur's voice pulled Thorin from trying to read Bilbo's bewildered face.  
“Was that not convincing?” Thorin asked sincerely.  
“Not really. You looked a bit like you wanted to hit him.”  
“Dammit.” Thorin rubbed roughly at his temples. “I'll never get it right.”  
“Excuse me, Your Highness?” Dori's proper voice pulled Thorin's attention. He let Balin and Bofur slide past him so he could walk closer to the gray haired dwarf. “I hadn't meant to get involved, but my brother Ori has been collecting information on hobbit courtship for you.”  
Thorin leaned in, eager to learn. “Go on.”  
“It seems hobbits show their intention to court by sharing food and giving gifts of plants.”  
“Plants?” Thorin didn't sound in any way convinced. Food, he could see. Bilbo was a bit picky about the way food was prepared. He had been quite vocal about the abysmal cooking in the beginning, but plants?  
“Yes, plants. Preferably ones with blooms, but any attractive plant will suffice.”  
Thorin thought for a moment, then nodded. “Thank you, Dori. Maybe it's not hopeless after all.”

The company were desperate for a place to camp, the darkness so thick now, they couldn't see their feet in front of them. After blindly searching the side of the mountain, they finally managed to secure a small cave. Everyone was tired and quite soaked through after all the trekking through the storm. Thorin sat down and wrung out his hair, careful to keep the water from pooling where he intended to lay. 

“Uncle?” Thorin closed his eyes and sighed at Kili's voice beside him.  
“What?”  
“Try again, Uncle. What can it hurt?” Kili pleaded softly.  
“Kili, I've done enough damage to my nonexistent relationship already.”  
“Oh, come on. What have you got to lose?”  
“My dignity?”  
Fili scoffed from Thorin's other side. “That's long gone at this point. Go on. Say something.... nice.”  
Thorin huffed, rolling his eyes and fixing them to the ceiling. He let his chin drop and pushed himself to his feet. He moved across the cave to stand next to Bilbo, who was taking stock of his soaked belongings.

“It's... rather cold tonight,” Thorin's voice caused the hobbit to jump.  
“Oh- well... yes. Yes it is,” Bilbo turned back to what he was doing, obviously trying to signal the conversation was over.  
“Do...” Thorin started uncertainly. “Would you like... to share warmth again? Or perhaps, to borrow my cloak?”  
Bilbo froze, this shoulders tensing as his hands balled into fists at his side. “No,” he began, refusing to turn and face Thorin. “I don't need anything from you, thank you very much.”  
Thorin closed his eyes, grimacing at the clear hurt in Bilbo's voice. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to form words from the feelings in his heart.   
“I- alright then.” With a heavy heart, he turned and walked away.

* * * * *

Thinking back on it, Bilbo couldn't say what had possessed him into running to Thorin's aid. It was clearly a fool's errand, suicidal in its attempt, and yet he had been drawn to the king's side. It was as though he had been pulled by an invisible rope. A surety and possessiveness had taken over him, a thrumming in his ears, pulsing in time with the pounding of his feet on the rocky ground. “Not Thorin Not Thorin Not Thorin”. It had overcome him, driving him to fight off fierce orc riders and their even more ferocious mounts without hesitation. Without consideration for his own wellbeing. Without even pondering his lack of skill with a blade.

Bilbo sat staring blankly into the fire. There was much to think on, so much confusion, so many mixed messages. Thorin was a frustrating, pig headed fool. But oh, how Bilbo..... admired him. Admiration was safe enough, wasn't it? His inner Baggins wouldn't allow him to consider more than that. It would be too much to hope that there could ever be..... more.

The most perplexing thing, however, was the way the two of them seemed to be drawn to one another. It almost seemed as though ones survival depended on the other. The thought sent an odd feeling through Bilbo. It was possible that they had managed to escape Azog and his band of rancid orcs by a stroke of dumb luck. Bilbo couldn't believe they had lived to tell the tale. 

As for the warm and seemingly genuine embrace after the king had been revived? Well. Wasn't that the most confusing part of it all? Bilbo couldn't really find any sense in it. Any logic. Only the fleeting thought that somehow, Thorin Oakenshield had finally come to respect him. Tolerate him. Or maybe, just maybe, like him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to you all! Hope you are well!  
> Please leave a comment, even if it's just to say you're ok. I love hearing from you all, and it's good to know that you're doing alright.


	6. In which Thorin is really trying, ok?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves!  
> I feel like this one is getting easier to write the further I get. It's so much fun to pick on Thorin! I made this chapter just a tad longer. Hope you enjoy it!  
> So, here you are! What will our dwarf try next?

It was nearly dusk, and the company had made camp a bit earlier than usual. Thorin was still rather sore from his encounter with Azog, and he was a bit uncomfortable letting the company see him grimace in pain. He had found a nice spot just beyond the light of the fire to sit and have a moment to himself in the trees. He sat down gingerly at the base of a great oak, moving slowly so as not to jostle his injuries. He sighed as he leaned back against the rough bark, then cringed at the sharp stabbing pain in his ribs at the movement. He pulled his pipe from the pouch in his breast pocket, then, after packing the bowl, brought it to his lips and lit it. He took a light pull, relishing the robust flavor of dwarven weed and let his eyes fall closed as he blew the smoke from his lungs.

“Mind if I join you?” Bilbo's voice made the corner of Thorin's mouth turn up in an involuntary grin. He nodded, not bothering to open his eyes, and instantly felt a warm sense of belonging as Bilbo sat down next to him. They sat in silence for a while, each mulling over his own thoughts, until finally Bilbo cleared his throat. 

“How are you feeling?” the hobbit asked softly.  
Thorin frowned at the question. He couldn't remember ever letting his pain show in front of the others. How had Bilbo noticed?  
“You try to put on a brave face,” Bilbo shook his head, “but that warg was no kitten.” He turned to face Thorin. “You'll have bruised ribs at the very least, and I know how uncomfortable those can be.”  
Thorin frowned, finally turning to meet Bilbo's eye. “How would you know what a bruised rib feel like? You've never seen battle, and I doubt hobbits do much sparring.”  
Bilbo looked slightly affronted. He sighed in exasperation and leveled Thorin with a serious glare. “When I was just a faunt, I used to like to climb. My mother warned me, she was constantly trying to keep me from the tops of the trees, but I wouldn't listen. One day, I had managed to reach the top of the highest tree in our yard. I was filled with elation and a great sense of accomplishment! When suddenly, my foot slipped, and I hit nearly every branch as I plummeted to the ground. Bruised ribs and a broken arm. I don't have to be a great warrior to know that rib injuries are painful.”

Thorin nodded gruffly. “I'm sure being shaken around in a warg's mouth is a far cry from a fall out of a tree.”

Bilbo huffed, jumping to his feet. “Well excuse me, Master Oakenshield. I only hoped to share a bit of empathy with you, but seeing how you are injured beyond anything a lowly hobbit could comprehend, I suppose I'll leave you to sulk alone.” With that, Bilbo turned and stormed back off to camp.

Thorin stared open mouthed at the space where Bilbo had disappeared behind a tree.  
What had just happened?

* * * * *

Bilbo seethed as he sat at the fireside. Thorin was even more infuriating than he had originally thought. A bit of sharing and finding common experience was normally a great way to get to know someone. At least if that someone isn't Thorin “you-know-nothing-of-pain” Oakenshield. 

Why did Bilbo continue to feel drawn to that stubborn pompous pig-headed fool in the first place? Surely it shouldn't be so hard to simply avoid Thorin, but Bilbo could not stop seeking him out! 

Bilbo scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the fire. He would simply have to force himself to stay away from the great brooding dwarf king.

Thorin watched as Bilbo cast murderous looks into the flames. How could he possibly keep making things worse with the hobbit? Just when he thought things couldn't get any more hopeless, he would go and muck it up even further.  
“What did you do to him?” Kili asked softly as he plopped down next to Thorin.  
Thorin sighed. “I'm not even sure.”

“Go offer him food, Thorin,” Nori's voice suddenly chided from somewhere over Thorin's right shoulder.  
“What are you talking about?” Kili asked, intrigued.  
Nori came to sit with the two, bringing along the knife he was sharpening. “Ori told your uncle that hobbits show their intentions to one another through food sharing or gifts of plants, or something.”  
Kili wrinkled his nose. “Plants?”  
“I don't pretend to understand,” Nori shook his head.  
“Well Uncle, go offer him some of your soup,” Kili urged.  
Thorin sighed, admitting defeat. What did he have to lose at this point? Though he wasn't too keen on being watched by the entire company as he approached Bilbo, and inevitably made a fool of himself. Thankfully, most of the company had either gone to bed or were off on their own, finding a moment of peace.

Thorin stood slowly, his ribs protesting every movement. He squared his shoulders, and made his way over to where Bilbo sat. When he reached the hobbit, he hesitated for a moment, uncertain of how he would be received.  
“Bilbo?”

Bilbo scowled at the ground, refusing to look up at the dwarf. “Yes?” he snapped, ready to have this conversation over with before it had even started.

“I- I wanted to....” Thorin floundered a bit. He held the bowl out for Bilbo, but the hobbit would not look up to see it. “I wondered if you would like...”

Bilbo huffed impatiently. “Sweet Yavanna, Thorin, what is it?!” Bilbo's head snapped up quite suddenly, knocking into the bowl in Thorin's outstretched hand. Thorin scrambled to catch it, but not before half the broth had splashed over Bilbo's lap. 

Bilbo's cry of pain brought most of the company to attention, and several of them running to his aid.  
“Bilbo!” Dori's concerned voice was the closest, and he helped Bilbo out of his trousers to assess the damage.  
Thorin pressed his hand to his forehead. His gaze snapped to Kili, and he frowned deeply when he saw that his nephew was laughing uncontrollably. He beat a hasty retreat, unable to face his latest failing. How had he managed to foul this up yet again?

* * * * *

Thorin was pensive as he strolled in the cool night air. The skin-changer had not been exactly welcoming, but he was kind enough to allow the company to stay with him as they rested and restocked supplies. Now, Thorin had ample time to consider how to proceed with his One. Bilbo had been distant since he had been scalded by Thorin's horrible attempt at sharing his food. Thorin had to find the perfect way to convey his apology, and hopefully his adoration and respect. Perhaps not enough to convey love, but enough so at least Bilbo would stop being angry with him. 

Thorin hoped he would have better luck with a hobbit courting gift. A plant. How in Durin's name was he supposed to pick out a plant that would make a good gift? If you were to gift a plant to a dwarf, you would be thought insane! It was far too monumental a task and Thorin was sure he would never find anything green and growing in the ground worthy of his hobbit. 

“Nice evening,” Bilbo's soft voice startled Thorin from his worry.  
“Oh,” Thorin glanced around, avoiding Bilbo's gaze, “yes. Yes it is.”  
Bilbo sat near a stream, his arms wrapped around his legs and chin resting on his bent knees.  
Thorin fidgeted for a moment, before clenching his fists at his sides. A king should not fidget. He took a deep breath and looked at Bilbo. “How is your leg? I hope it is not bothering you.”  
Bilbo gave Thorin a sidelong glance. “It's healing well enough. Oin says it may scar.”  
“Right...” Thorin felt the weight of guilt clench in his stomach. Continuing on this subject was sure to end in disaster, so he thought to change the direction of their conversation. 

“So what brings our dear burglar out to the gardens at this hour?” Thorin asked, hoping his voice sounded more curious than scolding. He had been working on his tone, but his nephews didn't hold out much hope for him.  
Apparently, he had been improving, because Bilbo didn't scowl or tell him off and storm away.  
“Star gazing,” Bilbo answered simply, lifting his face to the heavens.  
“Oh?” The question in Thorin's voice had Bilbo grinning.  
“Have you never star gazed, Thorin?” he asked incredulously.  
Thorin shook his head lightly, suddenly unable to find his voice.  
“Alright. Come here,” Bilbo patted the lush grass at his side and laid back, letting his hands rest on his stomach. 

Thorin swallowed thickly. Any time with his One was a blessing, and considering Bilbo wasn't half frozen, nearly drown, or scalded, this was probably the most positive interaction they'd had since Bree. He lowered himself to the ground at Bilbo's side and laid down next to the hobbit, letting their arms brush as he rested his hands on the grass. 

“I don't believe much of it, but my mother said that certain the stars held secrets in their shine,” Bilbo said with a grin.

Thorin shrugged. “Dwarves don't know very much in the way of star lore. Probably we are underground too often to take much interest.”

Bilbo frowned. “Have you never really stopped to look at the stars?”  
Thorin shrugged lightly. “I suppose, a bit. But only to contemplate the vastness, the empty openness that comes with not having a mountain to shelter you.”

Bilbo's face dropped slightly. “There is such beauty in the stars, Thorin. I was taught to find hope in the light of the stars and moon.”

Thorin shook his head. “How do you find hope in such cold and empty light?”

“See there?” Bilbo pointed directly above them, where there twinkled a cluster of stars between the oak's thick branches. “When I was small, my mother always told me that cluster of stars shines brightest when a hobbit finds their mate.” Bilbo smiled as he reminisced. “She said she had never seen them glow so bright as the night my father asked for her hand.”

Thorin closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  
This was the perfect opportunity, and he wasn't about to waste it. 

“They glow quite brightly tonight,” Thorin said softly, daring to glance over at Bilbo. 

Bilbo lay perfectly still, his eyes meeting Thorin's with question and intensity. Thorin couldn't be certain what Bilbo would see there, but when Bilbo swallowed and floundered for words, he thought perhaps he had finally done well. 

The sudden rustle of bushes and snap of a twig pulled them from the moment, sending them both swiftly to their feet. Ori and Dwalin came strolling from the woods, hand in hand, fingers intertwined, sharing loaded looks and easy laughter. They froze as they finally noticed Bilbo and Thorin, looking around nervously and refusing to meet each other's gaze. 

“Oh! Bilbo! Thorin! We- we didn't see you...” Ori stuttered, his face quickly turning crimson.  
“Think nothin of it, Ori,” Dwalin reassured, “Thorin is my dearest friend. He makes no judgment. Right Thorin?”  
Thorin nodded in agreement, trying his best to give Ori a kind smile.  
“Right,” Ori answered, not sounding the least bit convinced. “Why don't you go back to the house first. I'll walk in a bit later, so Dori doesn't.....” Ori trailed off.  
“Aye. If you insist,” Dwalin turned and gave Ori a peck on the cheek, causing the scribe to blush even more furiously, then he traipsed off, whistling cheerfully as he disappeared into the night.

Ori looked to his feet, then to Thorin and Bilbo. “Look, I'd appreciate it if...”  
“Won't tell a soul,” Bilbo interrupted.  
Ori nodded, looking all the more uncomfortable. “Thank you. And I won't- Dwalin and I won't-” Ori shook his head, “I don't know what you two were-” he closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. “We won't tell anyone we saw you.”

Bilbo chuckled uncomfortably. “We weren't- Thorin wouldn't- not that I.....” he shuffled his feet and scrubbed at his face with his hand. “That's- fine. Yes, thank- thank you I'm.... I'm sure Thorin would appreciate that.”

Thorin held up a hand. “Bilbo, I don't care if-”  
“I'll just be-” Bilbo fidgeted for a moment, then he nodded awkwardly and took off toward the house.

“Durin's balls,” Thorin lamented, dropping his forehead into his hand. He massaged his temples with his thumb and forefinger, struggling with a sudden oncoming headache.

“I- did we just...interrupt...” Ori began, “I'm sorry. Is there any way I can help?”  
Thorin looked up, determination in his eyes. “Yes. Help me find a plant for Bilbo.”

* * * * *

Thorin had hardly slept a wink. He and Ori had spent hours scouring Beorn's land for the perfect courting gift for Bilbo. It was nearly dawn when they had finally found what Thorin hoped was an acceptable gift. Ori was unfamiliar with it, but it had the most charming tiny yellow blooms. Thorin found it a bit more masculine than roses, which Ori insisted was traditional for hobbits to give the lasses. Bilbo was not a lass, and Thorin was not a hobbit, so he thought this would be a good compromise. 

Thorin stood nervously, shaded by the branches of the tree near the stream where he and Bilbo had laid stargazing the night before. He held his gift tightly behind him, certain this would make his feelings plain to Bilbo at last. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, anxiety tying his stomach in knots as once again he awaited his One. When finally Bilbo arrived, he came to stand silently in front of Thorin, brow furrowed and hands clasped before him. 

“Listen, Thorin, if this is about that night with the soup, believe me, I forgive you. You don't need to stop and apologize every time you do or say something harsh. You would have to say sorry about every two-” Bilbo stopped as Thorin pulled the bouquet from behind his back. He pushed the plants into Bilbo's hands, and the hobbit looked up at him questioningly. 

“This entire journey,” Thorin began, “I struggled to find a way to tell you-”  
Bilbo cut him off with a violent sneeze.  
“To tell you-”  
Another sneeze halted Thorin's sentence, and it took everything in him not to glare as he looked at Bilbo's face. 

Bilbo's eyes were red and watering, his nose beginning to run profusely as he rubbed at his face.  
“Thorin? Is this ragweed?!” Bilbo demanded, wiping his nose on his sleeve.  
“Ragweed? I- I don't....” Thorin looked at Bilbo in confusion.  
“I am severally allergic to ragweed!” Bilbo dropped the bouquet and turned to stumble his way back to the house.  
“Bilbo! I'm so sorry!” Thorin ran to Bilbo's side, wrapping an arm around the hobbit to help him. “I didn't... I had no idea!”

Bilbo sneezed again, then leveled Thorin was as much of a glare as he could muster with his eyes all red and puffy. “No, you never have any idea, do you?”

Thorin inhaled sharply at the comment. Failure and remorse pulled at him as he grimaced in shame. 

No. He never had any idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Thorin. Do you think he'll ever figure this out?  
> More soon!


	7. In which Bilbo is scared shitless, and falls a lot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves! I seriously hope you don't get whiplash as I jump through various scenes. Assume all missing pieces are canon compliant. (movie)  
> Except for Kili getting shot with an orc arrow.  
> That does't happen.  
> Enjoy!

Bilbo couldn't sleep. Mirkwood was unpleasant to say the least, and in any case, his mind was far too occupied. His feelings for Thorin had only grown, but he didn't know what to do about it, considering all the bad interactions the two had shared thus far. Granted, the last time they interacted, Thorin had appeared to be offering Bilbo a courtship gift. Of course, that couldn't be right. He was probably giving a gift as an attempt at thanking Bilbo for saving him from Azog. Or to apologize for insulting him shortly after. 

But what if he wasn't? What if he wasn't giving Bilbo an apology or thank you gift? What if he had been offering something more? It wasn't impossible for Thorin to know about hobbit courtship gifts. Bilbo had explained it all to Ori after all. Had Ori told Thorin?

No, no now he was being ridiculous. Thorin had been far too flippant and and rude, and... too much of an ass to really care for Bilbo that much. Never mind that Bilbo was nearly head over heels. Thorin had made it apparent that he was not. 

Bilbo groaned and got up from his bedroll. Nature called. He thought it had to be near dawn when he tiptoed around the rest of the company and went off to find a place to relieve himself. He didn't go too far from camp, but enough so he felt some semblance of privacy. 

Thorin watched the hobbit go off into the trees. The darkness of Mirkwood was stifling, and being close to Bilbo was the only thing that made Thorin feel better. It was the perfect moment to approach Bilbo and try to finally talk to him. The company were all sleeping, and nobody would be there to interrupt or tell him what to do. He got up and quietly moved around his friends, making his way to the tree line. 

What would he say to Bilbo? He hadn't really considered what his exact words should be. Perhaps he should keep it simple. He stopped beside a tree and took a deep and settling breath. His palms were a bit sweaty, and anxiety prickled at him as he heard Bilbo approach. The hobbit came into view, watching his feet and moving carefully over sticks and weeds.

“Master Baggins?”  
“Nyah!” Bilbo jumped, stumbling backwards and tumbled into a ditch of brambles.  
“Bilbo! Are you alright?” Thorin ran to Bilbo's aid and found him tangled in a thorn bush. 

* * * * *  
The sun was just rising, or at least, they had to assume so, as the thick darkness was just a little less stifling than it tended to be at night. The company were eager to move, but they couldn't just yet.

“Ow!” Bilbo yelled again as Oin pulled another thorn from his backside.  
“Sorry Bilbo. You really need to be more careful, you know?” Oin scolded.  
Bilbo's eyes found Thorin's and he scowled murderously. “Yes. I really should, shouldn't I?”

Thorin scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration and turned and stomped off into the trees. He had mucked everything up once again. What was the point? He would never even get to tell Bilbo how he felt. He would never get to be close to the hobbit, to feel the warm sense of completion and belonging with his One, to kiss him and hold him and be near him. Perhaps he was destined to die alone after all.

“Thorin?” Balin's voice followed him as he trudged through undergrowth.  
Thorin spun on his heel, facing his friend with equal parts fury and misery.  
“This isn't working, Balin! Every attempt I make ends up with him glaring daggers at me, hating me all the more!”  
Balin sighed. “He doesn't hate you, Thorin. Trust me, Bilbo-”  
“Won't come anywhere near me now.”

* * * * * 

Thorin sat in his cell, his face in his hands. He hadn't seen Bilbo since the elves had captured them, and he feared the worst. Of course, he would feel it if Bilbo had come to any harm. Perhaps he had managed to escape and was making his way back home. Or maybe the spiders had captured him and he was wrapped sleeping in a cocoon of silk, about to be made into a meal...

No. Thorin couldn't think like that. Just imagining Bilbo in danger made his blood run cold. He would stress himself to death if he continued on this way. 

“Must be nearly dawn.”  
“We're never going to make it to the mountain in time.”

Thorin's heart nearly stopped when a familiar and very welcome voice answered. “Not stuck in here, you're not.”

The elation of Bilbo's return stayed with Thorin even as they began their trip down the river. He couldn't believe Bilbo still lived, and had managed to free them from Thranduil's prison. He felt even more affection for Bilbo, and so much pride that the hobbit had defied so many odds in order to help them. Strange as it had seemed to Thorin at first, Mahal couldn't have picked a better One for him. 

If only he could tell Bilbo that.

* * * * *

Bilbo took another swig of ale. He was glad to be dry and warm again, and glad they had managed to escape the elves of Mirkwood. 

“How about another?” Fili suddenly appeared at Bilbo's side and signaled for the bar maid to bring another round. 

Bilbo shrugged. “May as well.”

Fili took a deep draw from his mug, then gave Bilbo an assessing look. “You alright, Bilbo?”

Bilbo frowned into his mug. “Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?”  
“Well, you seem a little bit on edge....”  
“Do I?” Bilbo's voice was dripping with sarcasm.  
Fili looked at Bilbo and watched as the hobbit's eyes were drawn to Thorin on the other side of the room.

Fili grinned.

“You know, Uncle would love it if you would speak to him.”  
Bilbo scowled at Fili. “Oh no, he has made it perfectly clear that he would much rather not speak with me at all!”  
Fili frowned and shook his head lightly. “What are you talking about?”  
“So far, he has nearly given me a concussion, knocked me into a river, made fun of the fact that I am unwed, scalded me, and nearly put me into anaphylactic shock!” 

Fili grimaced. “Fair enough. I could see how that might make it seem as though he....”  
“Hated me?!”  
“was being rude.”  
Bilbo huffed, then looked up to where Thorin was now staring emptily into his own mug. He looked... defeated; far too downtrodden for a king about to win back his kingdom.  
Bilbo furrowed his brow.  
“Uncle cares a great deal for you, Bilbo. Give him a chance to show it?” With a knowing grin, Fili stood and walked away.

* * * * *

It was quite a bit later when Bilbo decided enough was enough. He had been contemplating all Fili had said, unable to decide if he believed it or not. With a little more liquid courage, he made up his mind and hopped down from his seat. He staggered a little, surprised at how strong the ale had been. He locked eyes with Thorin, adopted a determined face, and walked right up to the dwarf.  
“Alright, Thorin, we need to talk,” Bilbo announced with a slight slur as he grabbed Thorin's hand and pulled him off toward the door and out into the night.

The air was bitingly cold, the chill intensified by the moisture in the air. The wind rushing over him sobered him a bit, and he readied himself before he turned to face Thorin. He swallowed the words before they had a chance to leave his mouth, startled by the longing look in Thorin's eyes.  
“Thorin?” 

Thorin shook his head. If Bilbo didn't know any better, he would say the dwarf was on the verge of tears.  
“Please,” Thorin finally choked out, “can we go somewhere private to speak?”  
Bilbo nodded, suddenly very unsure. They moved silently down the wooden walkways, making their way back to the inn where they had been given rooms. When they reached the front door, Thorin turned around to face Bilbo. Bilbo jumped back, his feet sliding on the wooden dock and he stumbled backwards into the water below.

* * * * *

This was miserable. Bilbo's skin felt prickly, his limbs numb and heavy as Thorin carried him swiftly, taking him to the warmth of his room. His teeth chattered painfully as they moved, and he could tell Thorin was uncomfortable from the freezing water soaking his front.

Thorin huffed in frustration. “I'm so sorry Bilbo.”  
“'s alright,” Bilbo managed to mumble between chattering teeth.  
“I can't tell you how sorry I am. For everything. All of it. I never meant...” Thorin grimaced, then set Bilbo on a soft and warm bed. He moved to light the fire, then came back to help Bilbo out of his wet clothes. The wet garments clung to Bilbo's skin, putting up a fight as Thorin tugged patiently until the hobbit was bare and shivering before him. He took off his cloak and wrapped it carefully around Bilbo, then sat on the bed next to him.  
Bilbo glanced at the dwarf beside him, then turned back to the flames dancing in the hearth. “You didn't mean it. Any of it.”  
Thorin shook his head. “The last thing I wanted was to hurt you.”

Bilbo nodded in understanding. “Keep me warm?” he gave Thorin a crooked grin and crawled up to lay on the pillows. 

Thorin sat frozen, shocked at the invitation. He followed Bilbo slowly, then laid down a safe distance away, too aware that Bilbo wore nothing but Thorin's cloak. Bilbo made the decision for him. He snuggled in close, burrowing himself into Thorin's side and pressing his cold nose to Thorin's chest. 

Thorin smiled. He hesitantly wrapped an arm around the hobbit and pulled him in closer, then happily fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha! Who is glad to see them finally making some progress?! Yay! Let me know what you think!


	8. In Which We Reach The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! Thank you for being so very patient! Finally, FINALLY! I am updating this fic! I went for weeks without access to my fics, then my muse took a vacation without my consent, and now, I have what was supposed to be the last chapter, but when I reached the end, I decided, there has to be an epilogue! So, after far too much waiting, here is Chapter 9. I hope you don't hate it, because my muse is back but she's only half on her game.

Light filtered in through the grungy window, pulling Bilbo from his comfortable slumber. He was warm, the body next to him radiating heat and comfort. It was nice, being so close to Thorin like this, wrapped up in the dwarf king’s embrace. Bilbo blinked his eyes open against the dingy light. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but for some reason he felt there was a particularly important piece to the puzzle he was missing.

Ah. His clothes. 

Panic flooded Bilbo in a cold wave from head to toe. He was naked. In a bed. Laying next to Thorin. He wrapped the half-removed cloak around himself and stretched his neck up to look for his clothing. 

“Bilbo,” Thorin’s voice was gravely with sleep, and it rumbled deep in the dwarf’s chest. “Relax. Your clothes are by the fire.”  
Bilbo gulped audibly. “By the fire?”  
“Yes. They were drying.”  
“Drying?”  
Thorin grinned, opening his eyes just a bit. “You don’t remember?”  
Bilbo frowned, before it all came tumbling back. “You knocked me into the lake.”  
“So I did.”  
Bilbo creased his brow again, rifling through the nights events again. When he was finished, he clenched his jaw determinedly and looked up into Thorin’s eyes. “You never meant any of those things you did to turn out the way they did.”  
Thorin winced. “No.”  
“Not the flippant remarks about my dating life?”  
“No.”  
“The callous comments about me going home?”  
“Mahal no.”  
“The hot soup?”  
“I really didn’t intend to burn you.”  
“The ragweed?”  
Thorin rolled his eyes. “I had no idea what I was looking for. I thought... I thought you might like it.”

“Alright Thorin. What have you been trying to tell me? What does it all mean? Were those courting gifts?!”  
“Yes. At least, they were meant to be.”

Bilbo nodded softly. “W-w-well... That’s just... fine.”  
Thorin furrowed his brow, giving Bilbo a sidelong glance. “Fine?”  
“I-I mean... alright.”  
Thorin’s frown deepened.  
Bilbo sighed. “Don’t you have things... other things... big things... to focus on?”  
Thorin let out a breath in a defeated gust. “Yes. Yes I do. With the mountain so close to being reclaimed... I wanted to tell you. I’ve tried for so long to find the right way to go about it, and now?” Thorin closed his eyes, remorse plain on his features. “Now we are so close to journey’s end, I don’t have enough time.”  
Bilbo nodded quickly. “We can wait. Wait until we’ve reached our destination to discuss,” he gestured between them with frantic nervous hands, “all this.”   
Thorin grinned, letting his eyes fall closed with relief. “Well then, Master Baggins, put your clothes back on and we’ll start off here again when I have a kingdom to offer you. Will my intention be clearer then?”  
Bilbo blushed. “Yes I believe that will clear a few things up.” He wrapped the cloak tighter around himself and hopped off the bed. “Now don’t look while I get dressed.”  
Thorin grinned again. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

*****

It didn’t seem fair. They had reached the mountain, and the dragon had been killed. They had succeeded! And yet... and yet Bilbo had not been able to reach Thorin. The king had refused to stop, refused to end his constant plotting long enough for Bilbo to talk some sense into him. Bilbo had held out no hope for any future for his dwarves. Not if Thranduil decided to attack. The elf had been close, but the orcs took that pleasure from him. The battle had been long and brutal. The only comfort to Bilbo was that Thorin had come out of his obsessive haze in time to help end the battle. He had killed Azog, but at what cost?

Now? Now Bilbo paced the halls of the mountain, wondering if Thorin would ever wake up. If he would ever see those blue eyes piercing him with their gaze again. Thoughts of their shared smiles and longing looks by the fire over the last days leading up to the mountain were long gone. There was a cold jagged hole in Bilbo’s heart, and his mind was filled with thoughts of what could have been. Bilbo threw himself down onto the stone floor, pressing his back into the wall. He pulled up his legs and wrapped his arms around his knees, burying his face. 

“Bilbo?” Kili’s concerned voice called softly.  
Bilbo opened his eyes to look up at the young prince. Kili was knelt down beside him. He reached out tentatively and rested his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder.   
“How are they?” Bilbo asked, his voice a whispered breath of desperation.  
“Thorin has managed to swallow a few mouthfuls of broth. He can’t stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time. And Fili...” Kili swallowed around the lump in his throat. “He has not yet opened his eyes. I should have been there to protect him!”  
“No,” Bilbo put a calming hand on Kili’s shoulder. He chastised himself inwardly for being so wrapped up in his own misery to remember there were more lives at stake, more hearts hurting than his own. “No Kili. This is not your fault. If you had been next to him, you would both be in his position.”  
“Better to face death together than to be left alone!” Kili declared, his voice echoing through the empty tunnel around them.

Bilbo sighed as the echo tapered off, leaving the two in silence again. “You are not alone. Tauriel fought valiantly to save you. She would not have done so if she intended to leave you. You have found love, Kili. And that is worth living for.”  
“Then why has she gone back to the forest?” Kili demanded.  
“She has gone with Legolas to clear her banishment. She will return.”  
Kili nodded. “I think I know that. I’m just... scared. I don’t want to lose my brother. Or my uncle.”  
Bilbo grimaced. “I know Kili. We must hold on to hope.”

“Master Baggins? Kili?” a voice called from further down the tunnel.   
Bilbo and Kili looked up as Balin made his way over to them.   
“Fili has rejoined the living! He only managed to keep his eyes open for a few minutes, but it is definitely a good sign."   
Kili grinned, worry falling from his face and leaving him looking much more himself.  
"Oh, and Bilbo? Thorin is demanding to see you.” 

Bilbo froze, his eyes widening in fear. The last time they had spoken, Thorin had threatened to pitch Bilbo to his death. “Are- are you sure it’s a good idea?”  
Balin sighed. “He is quite adamant. Keeps trying to climb out of bed to come find you. He’s going to injure himself.”  
Bilbo nodded. He numbly pushed himself to his feet, stumbling a bit, and rested his hand on the wall to steady himself. 

“Come on lad. Better hurry before he does any more damage,” Balin gestured for Bilbo to follow him, and the hobbit complied, face pale, hands fidgeting, and feet refusing to cooperate. They finally reached the king’s rooms, ornately decorated with gold pillars and dust covered statues of the kings of old flanking the door. 

This would be it. Thorin would officially banish him, and he would go back to the Shire, alone and disgraced. At least none of the residents of his homeland would know what had happened. Would know how he had betrayed his closest friend, his... his... well. Whatever Thorin Oakenshield had almost been. He swallowed thickly and followed Balin into the room.

Balin led Bilbo to the bed standing in the center of the room, dust and cobwebs still hung from the carved golden posts and Bilbo wondered where they had managed to find clean bedding for the mattress. He let his eyes wander over his surroundings, ignoring the other dwarves as they were silently ushered out by a grinning Balin.

Bilbo’s heart rate picked up. His eyes darted over the veins of gold in the floor, refusing to even glance up at the dwarf on the bed.

“Bilbo?” Thorin’s voice sounded broken, as though it were reluctant to be forced from his throat. 

Bilbo’s breaths became pained, forcing from his lungs too quickly, too shallow for them to be doing his body any good. His heart pounded in his ears, and he felt as though he may just implode, die here and now from his panic.

“Bilbo, please,” Thorin begged, letting his hands drop open on the blanket beside him.  
Bilbo didn’t notice. He was too busy counting his breaths in order to slow them down.   
“Bilbo?”

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo gasped out. “I’m so sorry Thorin. I never meant to betray you, to betray your trust or- or hurt you. I did what I felt I had to. You must understand, I tried. I tried to tell you, to get through to you but you- you just..."

Thorin shook his head. “No. No, it’s alright. I understand why you did what you did. You were trying to save me. To protect me from myself.”

Bilbo stopped short at the words, letting them register. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, frowning a bit.  
“Thorin, I-"  
“Wait, please. There is something I must tell you before you leave.”  
“Leave? Then you do intend to… to…”  
“No. No Bilbo.” Thorin took a pained breath. “I love you. Mahal help me, I have been drawn to you since I first laid my eyes on you. You are my One.”

Bilbo blinked. Blinked again. Swallowed. Tilted his head one way. Then the other. “Your One? Are- are you certain?”

Thorin nodded slowly. “Yes. And I have no intention of banishing you.”

Bilbo’s lips quirked in a small smile. “Then… you want me to... Stay?”

Thorin nodded then closed his eyes, taking a deep and painful breath. “But I will not stop you if you wish to leave.” He swallowed dryly. “Threatening your life-“ he shook his head sadly. “I will never forgive myself for it, and I understand if you can’t either.”

Bilbo shook his head with a grin. “Thorin, you weren’t in your right mind. Of course I forgive you. And I would love to stay. If you’ll have me.”

Thorin's eyes met Bilbo's and he smiled as the hobbit moved closer. He let his eyes fall closed as warm lips met his forehead.   
“Now,” Bilbo whispered, taking Thorin’s hand and sitting on the edge of the bed, “now you need to rest. I’ll be right here when you wake.”   
Thorin wanted to argue, but he couldn’t deny the exhaustion of his body. He let himself relax into the mattress and quickly fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, who thinks there needs to be a smut chapter? Anyone?   
> Please, let me know if you enjoyed this chapter. I know there's a bit of skipping around again, but I hope it made enough sense that I didn't lose you. Final chapter coming soon!


	9. In Which Thorin Is Finally Bonded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves! Here it is! The long awaited conclusion to this silly little story. It feels a little bit off to me, and I'm not entirely sure why. Hopefully I'm just being nit-picky, which is entirely possible. Hope you enjoy!

It must have been just before dawn when Thorin felt the pull of consciousness. There was a horrendous stabbing pain in his abdomen, and the throb of a hundred bruises and the sting of cuts and scrapes began making themselves known. Thorin groaned with a frown as he forced his eyes to blink open. He took stock of himself, cataloguing the many injuries, both mild in nature and the more severe. His foot felt as though it were on fire, the muscles in his legs and arms heavy and stiff. His side was… warm.   
Thorin frowned before turning to find honeyed curls peaking up from beneath the blanket beside him. With great effort, he pulled his hand from where it lay on the pillow and reached down to touch Bilbo’s hair. It was just as soft as he’d always imagined, the golden strands catching the firelight as Thorin’s fingers sifted through them.   
“Thorin?” Bilbo’s sleepy face turned up and he locked eyes with the dwarf.   
“You’re still here,” Thorin breathed, as though he were surprised it hadn’t all been a dream.   
“Yes,” Bilbo caught Thorin’s hand as it wove through his hair. He pulled it down and kissed Thorin’s palm. “Yes I am here.” He turned to lay on his side and face Thorin. “Are you up for talking?”  
Thorin grinned. “At least.”  
Bilbo shook his head with a smirk. “Slow down, Thorin. We’ve only just begun.”  
“I have just been saved from death’s door. I will not be wasting any more time on waiting for the right moment. I intend to have you, Bilbo Baggins. In any way and in any capacity I can.”  
Bilbo blushed crimson at the insinuation. He cleared his throat and avoided Thorin’s intense and hungry gaze in order to collect his thoughts. “I… I have questions,” Bilbo declared, finally regaining his wits.   
“Go on,” Thorin encouraged as he ran his nose along the shell of Bilbo’s ear.   
“Um… uh…,” Bilbo stammered, his eyelids fluttering as Thorin nibbled his earlobe. “I- I- I just wondered; what exactly is the One of a dwarf king expected to… um… to do. Or- or how does this… whole soul mate business work?”  
Thorin sighed, laying his head back against his pillow. “Bilbo, you are not expected to do anything you don’t want to do, whether with me or as it pertains to the kingdom. We would be wed, and you would become my consort. You may do exactly as you please, be as involved or not involved with my duties as you’d like. As far as how soul mates work? Well, it simply means that you were hand picked for me by Mahal. You need only accept my offer of courtship, and we will be bonded. You have every right to deny my advances, and with a formal decline of courtship, that would be it.” Thorin’s face barely concealed his pain at the thought.   
“What happens to you if I decline?” Bilbo asked with a frown.  
“Nothing really. But, a dwarf has only one soul mate. That is why we call them our Ones. If a dwarf is denied, he simply lives out his life alone, or finds another who has been denied to keep him company.”  
“And… what would you say if I were to accept your… advances?” Bilbo asked, his pulse fluttering under his skin.  
“Then I would say I only regret that I cannot have you here and now.”  
Thorin gently stroked his finger along Bilbo’s jaw. His breath caught as Bilbo began to slowly close the distance between them. It became too much to wait, and so Thorin closed his eyes and leaned in. His forehead smashed into Bilbo’s, and the hobbit jerked back, rubbing at his head and grinning with amusement.   
“You are hopeless, aren’t you?” Bilbo teased. He sat up and placed his hands on the sides of Thorin’s face and finally took him in a slow and soft kiss. Thorin’s lips parted and he groaned as Bilbo all but breathed life back into him. His soul sang with the glory of being united with his One, the one whom he was meant to bond with for life. His hands wrapped around Bilbo and he yanked him closer. Then he shoved Bilbo back with a pained grunt.   
“I’m sorry! Are you alright?” Bilbo asked, his voice panic stricken.  
“Yes, yes. It’s just… my ribs…” Thorin sounded more than a little annoyed at his physical limitations. He grumbled and laid his head back on the pillow.   
“Shh…” Bilbo soothed, running his hands over the raven hair spilt down onto the sheets. “I am perfectly capable of taking the lead. Let me take care of you.” He moved to sit between Thorin’s legs and leaned forward, balancing himself on his hands and knees and bent down to taste Thorin’s kiss again.   
Thorin writhed and moaned as Bilbo pushed against him, arching his back so as to keep pressure off the king’s wounds.   
“Please,” Thorin begged, “please Bilbo.”  
Bilbo sat up, smoothing his hands gently through the hair at Thorin’s temples. “Relax, my love. I’ve got you.” He let his hands wander down Thorin’s bare torso, avoiding the bandages that held his wounds closed. He slid his fingertips beneath the waist of Thorin’s pants, teasing at the coarse hairs there. Thorin moaned and rolled his hips, his breath hitching at the pain the movement caused him. Bilbo grasped Thorin’s hips and pressed them firmly into the mattress. “Don’t move. If you pull your stitches, Balin will have both our hides.”  
When it seemed Thorin had finally regained control of himself, Bilbo began unlacing the king’s trousers, and then gently pulled them down over thick and muscles legs.   
Bilbo stopped and took a moment to appreciate the body before him. Thorin was a vision, all strong lines and solid muscle. He smoothed his hands over taut thighs and licked his lips in anticipation.   
“Bilbo?” Thorin sounded a little self-conscious as Bilbo looked up at him with a sly grin.   
“You are glorious,” Bilbo murmured breathlessly. With no warning, he reached down and took Thorin into his hand. Thorin arched violently and then grit his teeth and growled in pain. “Oh Thorin! I’m so sorry! I should’ve thought about that before I did it!”  
“No! No Bilbo! Don’t stop!” Thorin begged.  
Bilbo sat back on his heels, looking for some sort of slick. Oin’s healing salve would have to do. He set the tin next to him and took a healthy handful. He leaned forward, catching himself with one hand and used the other to wrap around both their and began to stroke. Thorin met each pull with a tiny jerk of his hips. He thrusted into Bilbo’s hands harder and faster until the pain of his wounds blended with the pleasure of Bilbo’s skin against him and he came with a bit off cry. Bilbo followed him over the edge shortly after, his release mixing with Thorin’s on the dwarf’s abdomen. He steadied himself over Thorin, taking a moment to catch his heaving breath.  
“So,” Thorin began between panted breaths, “does this mean you accept?”  
Bilbo looked up at his dwarf with a grin. “Of course I accept, Thorin. I would be honored to be your bond mate, and I would be honored to be your consort.”  
There was a sense of heat washing over him, and Bilbo felt his chest expand, letting the love of his dwarf fill in the gaps between his ribs, the loneliness in his soul, warming him from head to toe. When it left him, it felt as though his heart had been remade. Reborn with a piece of Thorin that would forever live within him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all she wrote, folks! Let me know if you like it!


End file.
